


Of Salt and Poppyseeds

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Community: daily_deviant, Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy - character, F/M, Fellatio, Gang Rape, Hogwarts, Humiliation, Lord Voldemort - character, Multi, Pansy Parkinson - Character, Public Sex, Rabastan Lestrange - character, Rough Sex, Sacrifices, Seventh year, Underage Character, dubcon, sex under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-31
Updated: 2010-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-13 00:29:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Any means to achieve their ends: The Slytherin upper form girls have decided to protect the younger ones against the Death Eaters in charge of the school, and they will provide that protection at any cost, including their own bodies and souls. Tonight, Pansy takes the lead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Salt and Poppyseeds

Millicent spread the _Prophet_ across the duvet as the girls gathered around the bed. Each of them stared at the headline and the photograph beneath it. Another great victory for the Ministry, the article read, with minimal losses, except for those caught with stolen wands and stolen magic. Acceptable casualties. Pansy slipped one arm around Astoria's shoulders as the younger girl choked back a sob. "They'll be celebrating again," Pansy said, her spine rigid with the effort of keeping her voice steady. She raised her head from the paper and met Daphne's eyes, then nodded once. "Astoria, take the younger girls. Go into the dungeons. You remember the route, right? The woodsman's hut in the forest. Keep a close eye on Bridget, she's still limping after that thing caught her in Herbology. Remember that Imogen has trouble seeing in the dark, make her walk with someone. And Peony—" her voice caught as she said her sister's name. Shaking her head, she concentrated. "We'll send word once … once it's safe. Don't even try to come back until after midnight."

Astoria wiped her eyes on her sleeve and murmured an acknowledgement. She left the dorm and Pansy heard her moving to the others, gathering up every Slytherin girl under sixteen. Pansy waited for a minute, then raised her chin. "All right," she said, voice as firm as she could make it. "Wands out, ladies." The remaining Slytherins formed a circle in the middle of the dorm, all wands out and tips touching. Pansy hesitated and shook her head. "Not you, Tracey. Not this time. Catch Astoria and keep watch over the little ones."

She pretended not to see the intense relief on Tracey's face as the other girl backed away from the circle. Once Tracey had left the dorm, Pansy concentrated on the wand tips that formed a star in the circle. She counted a cadence, and each girl spoke in rhythm, chanting a short spell. Their wands quivered and a bright sphere of blue light formed around the tips. Pansy took a deep breath and nodded at Millicent on her left. One by one, the girls pulled their wands from the sphere; one by one, the wands came away dark and dull. Pansy and Daphne were the last. Both remaining girls looked at their wands. With a deep breath, they each raised their hands.

The blue light clung to Pansy's wand.

Daphne cried out, both in relief and in fear, and Pansy gripped her wand tight as she extinguished the spell. "Me, then," she said, her voice shaking now beyond her ability to halt it.

Millicent put a hand on her shoulder. Pansy shivered and leaned into the touch. "Maybe Draco will be in attendance this time," Millicent said in her low voice. "We can hope for him, yeah?"

Pansy laughed without any sound or any humor. Laughed so that she wouldn't scream. After taking Tracey to the hospital wing two months before, and listening in closed-in horror as Madame Pomfrey went behind a screen to throw up, she didn't dare to hope. Draco might be there, and that could be the only thing she could imagine that would make it worse. She clung to the bedpost for a moment, then settled her shoulders. They'd all made this decision together, and now that it had fallen to her, she would not shirk her duty. Better her, going in with open eyes, than one of the younger, innocent girls.

She went to her trunk and rummaged through it, pulling out a set of clothing she wouldn't miss. An old bra with stretched straps, faded knickers with worn elastic. Skirt and blouse that were just a little too small. Nothing obviously worn and ragged, nothing that would show an obvious lack of respect or care, but nothing she couldn't bear to lose. They'd had to burn Tracey's dress, what had been left of it.

She dressed quickly, her hands trembling at the buttons on her blouse. Her stockings pulled up crooked, with the seams in awkward, uncomfortable lines beneath her toes, but she couldn't bring herself to straighten them. She couldn't make herself give that much attention to small details when she was trying to avoid thinking of the full picture.

Daphne shuffled close to her and held out a small vial, the dark glass seeming to absorb the light from the lamps. "Prof--Headmaster Snape," Daphne said in a whisper. "He … he said last time. After Tracey … if there was another time, then drink this just in case. It makes it easier."

Pansy closed her hand around the vial and nodded thanks to Daphne. Snape may have said 'if', but he'd made the potion regardless. 'If" was always _when_ now. She hugged her friends farewell and reminded Millicent to lock and seal the dorm behind her. She made her way up through the dungeon corridors, listening to her shoes thud against the stones and her breathing rattle in her lungs. As she neared the Hufflepuff areas, she heard a weak sound, and thought for a moment that she'd lost control of herself and started to sob. She touched her face, but her cheeks were dry. She looked up to find the source of the noise. In a shadowed alcove, a girl leaned against the wall, peeking around to see who was coming.

Pansy's breath caught. The girl couldn't be more than thirteen. What was she doing in the corridors alone? They'd sent the younger Slytherins into the woods, drawn their lots by magic, to _stop_ this tonight. She rushed forward and slapped the girl. "Stupid," she growled, jerking the girl out of the alcove and shoving her back towards the Hufflepuff dorms. "Stupid little thing. Trying to get some notice, no doubt. Want them to see you, think you'll get some special favors if they like what they see? Little mewling Hufflepuff. Who wants your filthy blood anywhere near them? Probably give them ten kinds of diseases just looking at you. Worthless rubbish, don't think you deserve their attention! Go back to your dorm with the rest of the Mudbloods!"

For good measure, Pansy pulled the girl's pigtails and pushed her so hard she stumbled. Pansy swept past, chin raised high, and pretended not to hear the girl's muttered 'bitch' and the dull, wet thud of spit hitting the floor behind her. She moved faster, hurrying up through the dungeons into the brighter halls of the main part of the castle. No time to dawdle now. If she waited, they might find entertainment on their own, and then she'd have failed.

She rushed up the stairs, hop-scotched one flight of them – two up, three down, four up – to keep it from dumping her into the kitchen compost pile, and raced down the corridor to the staff wing. Outside the door of the large lounge the Carrow siblings had claimed for their use, she stopped and fought to control her breath, straightening her clothing with quick jerks. She closed her eyes and took the vial from her pocket. The potion inside was bitter, tasting of salt and poppyseeds. She drank the contents in three swallows, feeling heat spread through her body. In short order, her limbs felt weightless, her head felt empty. All the colors and shapes of the corridor appeared to her as if viewed through centuries-old glass, blurred and soft. It would do.

Pansy pushed the door open and stood in the center of the threshold, shoulders straight and chin raised. Sprawled over sofas and into chairs, several men in black robes stared at her. Amycus Carrow, Thorfinn Rowle. Crabbe, Goyle. The brothers Lestrange.

 _Draco_.

In the darkest corner, Headmaster Snape stood beside a large chair, a mad-faced woman with dark hair on the opposite side. Between them, the man in the chair stirred, and Pansy tore her gaze away from Draco's eyes, glazed with horror, to meet the red eyes of Lord Voldemort. He smiled at her, his skin stretched into a cadaver's mask, and gestured her forward with one crooked finger. Pansy trembled as she stepped into the room. He wasn't supposed to be there. Not him. He never came to the school, only let Snape and Carrow run it into the dirt as they pleased. "Who have we here?" he asked.

"P-Pansy Parkinson, my Lord," she said as she curtsied, her knees shaking so much she nearly fell.

"Parkinson." Lord Voldemort paused, then smiled again. Somehow, Pansy thought it was as if he were trying to be friendly. Welcoming. She shuddered, her throat going dry, as he continued. "Ah, yes. Your father has contributed a great deal to our efforts. You're young Malfoy's girlfriend, if I recall."

Draco made a soft noise behind her and Lord Voldemort's smile widened. This time Pansy saw the vile satisfaction in it, and she bit on her tongue to keep from shrieking. He said nothing further to her, but his eyes gleamed as he stood. "Severus, Bellatrix, come along. Young Malfoy?" Draco made another sound, wordless and tight. The Dark Lord's laugh was as brittle as leaves in a tomb. "Stay."

He swept from the room, his lieutenants close behind him. The door shut, and everything was silent. Pansy waited, eyes closed, legs trembling, for the first of them to move. A chair creaked, the floor squeaked, and then an arm wrapped around her waist from behind. She felt the solid shape of him against her back, and she sank her teeth into her lip. No long and lean torso, no slender muscles in his arm, no pointed chin rubbing just behind her ear. Not Draco.

The man turned her in place, positioning her where every man in the room could see her. Pansy opened her eyes, looking at them through the haze of the potion. Their black robes wavered like the kelp in the lake; their glittering eyes shimmered like stars through a rain-sheeted window. Rabastan Lestrange was missing from his chair and Pansy knew he stood behind her. She felt a wave of gratefulness rush through her that he'd decided to take the entertainment she offered. Tracey had said, once she could speak again, that he'd refused to play because she'd looked too old, too womanly. Pansy's small breasts and narrow hips seemed to be enough for him, and she tipped her head back against his shoulder to keep his interest.

Crabbe, Goyle, the other men, they all leaned forward in their chairs, watching with avid hunger in their faces. Draco stared at her, his brows furrowed, his lips pressed together in a thin, white line. She met his eyes, silently praying that he would understand why she was there, why she and the other seventh-year girls had made the decision they had. Hard choices, disquieting options, dark and fearful paths. He'd taken his to protect his family. She had done the same.

Rabastan palmed her breasts and muttered in approval. At her back, she could feel the stirrings of his erection through his robes and she twitched her shoulders to rub against him. Keep their attention, keep their focus, and keep them out of the corridors and away from the younger students. That was what was important now. Rabastan gripped the front of her shirt in both hands and ripped it apart. Buttons flew, one zipping straight at Draco. He caught it out of the air, clenched it tight in his fist like a Snitch, and looked horrified at himself for it. She nearly smiled. Something so small, so normal, made her heart ache.

Calloused hands stroked her ribs and the thin cotton cups of her bra. Pansy's eyes widened as she felt heat rush through her. Snape's potion to make it easier. It had her nipples tightening. They hardened under Rabastan's touch and he laughed into her hair. "Looks like she's enjoying herself," he said to the other men, and they all laughed as well, some nudging each other, some already opening their heavy robes. Rabastan mouthed the crown of her head, kissing and sniffing at her hair. "Has he had you?" he asked, pushing her head Draco's direction. "Have you been a slut for him? Been a little whore for the Death Eater? We share, you know."

Draco closed his eyes and his lips formed a silent 'no'. Pansy's stomach rolled to see the flash of pain in his eyes, but she'd made her choice. She arched her back in answer, pressing her breasts into Rabastan's palms. Her hips circled against him. Her knickers grew damp with her movements, the potion helping her along. She cursed it at the same time she welcomed it. They'd think she wanted this, and might demand her attendance again. At least this meant it was less likely she'd be as torn up as Tracey by the time they were through.

One of the men kicked a footstool over and Rabastan shoved her down, pushing her hands into the thick cushion. He grabbed her hips and lifted them until she was almost standing on her toes. Arse in the air, she watched as robes swirled and blurred, the men closing in a circle around her. Her head was almost touching Draco's knee, and Rabastan seemed to like that. He thrust one leg between hers, shoving his knee against the crotch of her knickers, and pushed the footstool close to Draco's legs. Her hands slid with it, leaving her unbalanced until he gripped her hips and walked her forward like a puppet. When he stopped, Draco's feet were spread wide to either side of the footstool, and the top of her head rested against Draco's stomach. She could feel the muscles tense against her scalp, even through his thick robes, and from the corner of her eye she saw his fingers clenching against the arms of his chair.

Someone cheered in the room behind her as Rabastan shoved her skirt over her hips, and yanked her knickers to her knees, the elastic stretched tight and digging into her skin. He pushed two fingers into her cunt and drew them out. Pansy heard him licking his hand with loud slurps, heard the raucous laughter of the men. Draco loosed one hand from the chair and touched her cheek, moving her head an inch to the side.

"Malfoy." Rabastan's voice snapped and Draco went still.

"Yes, Rabastan?" he said, his low drawl so close a match for his father's. Pansy closed her eyes. He imitated Lucius most often when he was frightened, and right then, if she hadn't known which Malfoy sat in front of her, she'd never have been able to tell them apart by sound. Draco sounded calm, but he was terrified. She wished she'd been able to slip him some of Snape's potion.

"Your little girlfriend's wet," Rabastan said. He shoved his fingers into her again, pumping them in her cunt. "Tight, too. Guess your dick's as skinny as the rest of you. Don't you worry, girlie." He slapped her arse, the crack of his palm on her buttock echoing in the room and bringing another cheer from someone. "We'll loosen you up."

Pansy keened, unable to stop herself, when Rabastan drove his fingers deeper into her. He laughed and she heard the rustle of robes. Her fingers dug into the cushion of the footstool as she braced herself. The wide, blunt head of Rabastan's cock prodded at her cunt. She rested her head on Draco's thigh.

Rabastan shoved in.

Pansy shrieked, her cunt straining around the intruding length. Snape's potion had her wet and Rabastan slid in, but not deep and not quickly. He drew back and pushed again, slicking his skin and grinding in further. Each thrust rocked her, shoving her against Draco's hip. He braced one hand on her shoulder, holding her still.

Pansy felt the arch of her cheek heating as Draco's robes rubbed against her face. She heard soft grunts as Rabastan fucked her, and she thought it was him, but when Draco tensed, the sounds stopped. Pansy twisted her head and her chin brushed across his groin. He jerked, hips bucking, and made a strangled noise. Rabastan stopped, his cock buried in her, his bollocks warm against the folds of her cunt. "Problem, Malfoy?"

Draco's breath left him in a sharp sob and Rabastan laughed, pumping into Pansy with quick, short thrusts. His grip on her waist kept her upright, but her face ground into Draco's robes, against his groin. Against the stiffening length of his cock. Her heart stuttered and she strained to twist her head enough to see his face. His eyes were closed tight, his lips pressed together until the skin was bloodless white. "Draco," she murmured. "It's all right." He jumped and stared down at her, his eyes wide and dark. Under her cheek, his cock throbbed.

Rabastan sniggered and shoved into her. Pansy's arms buckled and she snapped them up to brace on Draco's lap. Her mind raced as Rabastan picked up speed. She might get through this easier if she could concentrate on something familiar, something comforting. Something. Someone. Her fingers scrabbled at Draco's robes and she pulled them open.

He protested, pushing at her hands, but she locked one around his cock and lifted it upright. She fastened her mouth over the head and Draco groaned. He grabbed her wrists and held her in place, his head thumping back against his chair. She kept her concentration on him, kept her focus on him, and when Rabastan came, pulsing and throbbing and spilling his thick come into her cunt, she barely noticed. All her attention was on the taste of Draco's skin on her tongue, the feel of Draco's shaft between her lips.

Rabastan pulled free of her and another man took his place, shoving into her. Easier, faster, the effects of the potion arousing her body and Rabastan's come slicking her cunt, and he immediately set up a hard rhythm. She braced one hand on the back of the chair by Draco's hip. Draco's cock stiffened faster than she'd expected. She'd thought it would take some time for him to get fully hard, with the fear of the situation distracting him.

She slowed. She needed him to last, needed him to be delayed in his orgasm. If he finished quickly, she'd have no one to distract _her_ from the horrible grunts and panting behind her, from the thick cocks driving relentlessly into her. The second man came with a shout, pulling from her, and Pansy moved only enough to adjust her feet and loosen the tension in her thighs from her position. She circled her tongue around the head of Draco's cock, following the heavy ridge, and another man jammed into her.

Pansy concentrated on Draco, on his rapid breathing, on the solid plane of his stomach, on the rigid muscles in his thighs. She kept her focus on the salty drops that hit her tongue as she swirled it over the head of his cock, on the crinkled skin of his bollocks as she cupped them in her palm.

Another grunting orgasm, another flood of warm and sticky semen in her cunt, another slap to her arse when he, whoever he was this time, drew out of her. Pansy sucked Draco's cock as if it was the only thing in the world that was real. The hazy, dreamy senses the potion had created in her made that feel like the truth. All she felt was Draco's cock in her mouth, all she heard was Draco's soft grunts.

He settled one hand on the back of her head. His fingers threaded through her hair, the tips warm against the nape of her neck. Pansy hummed, her lips tight around his cock just beneath the ridge, her tongue swirling over the glans and prodding into the thin slit. She reached two fingers under his bollocks and stroked the narrow band of muscle there. Draco swore and bucked his hips. Pansy opened for him, let him drive into her mouth, and lowered her head until his cock poked at her throat.

The next man pulled out of her cunt and Pansy wriggled her arse as the build-up of come oozed from her cunt, dripping out of her to spatter into her stretched knickers and onto the floor. Whoever had the next place in line put one hand on her hip and cupped one under her cunt. He pushed his fingers into her, collected a great glop of semen, and slapped it against her arsehole. He pushed it in her, shoving two fingers into her arse, driving past the tight ring of muscle. Pansy snapped her head up, shrieking, and Draco locked his fingers in her hair. She pushed up to look at him, and he met her eyes. Silently, his lips barely moving, he told her, "I'm here."

His grey eyes shimmered, glistening with worry and fear and concern, and she nodded once. She locked the image of his eyes in her mind and allowed that to fill in all the corners of her thoughts that the potion hadn't reached. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and lowered her head to his cock as the man behind her shoved into her arse. Her eyes watered from the searing pain, and she keened around Draco's cock, but the potion she'd taken made her relaxed enough. Just enough. There'd be none of the tearing and damage Tracey had suffered, none of the days of bloody stools and cramping bowels.

Pansy breathed heavy, tears dripping from her cheekbones and off the tip of her nose, saliva bubbling at the corners of her mouth as she sucked Draco deep. She shrieked when the man behind her jerked all the way out of her arse and shoved into her cunt to finish. Another man took his place, cock in her arse and hand on her cunt, and she whined as she felt his wide fingers prodding her clit. He circled and spiraled, and her body responded. She whimpered with every burst of sensation warming her gut and when she came, she sobbed with horrified, disgusted pleasure.

"Hot little bitch," the man said as he fucked her arse, each word matching a thrust. "Nice and tight, too. Might have to bring her to play again. What d'ya say, Malfoy? Should we make her our official whore? You look like you're okay with sharing."

Draco stayed silent, kept his hand gentle on the back of Pansy's head. She concentrated on the throbbing of his cock between her lips, did her best to ignore the nasty laughter of the man fucking her, the wet slaps of his bollocks against her soaked cunt. When he came, he pulled away, and Pansy waited for the next cock to shove into her.

Nothing.

No rustle of robes, no thick shaft invading her body, slipping through the gobs of come that filled her cunt and oozed down her thighs. Only the heavy grunts of Draco's ragged breathing and the wet slide of her mouth on his cock. He touched her tear-damp cheek, her lips where they stretched around him, her hair, and he bucked. Pansy picked up her speed. His breathing changed, his cock pulsed, and he came with a low and rolling groan. Pansy swallowed him down, took every drop. It tasted bitter, of salt and poppyseeds, and Pansy brought her head up to stare at Draco as she licked the last of him from her mouth. His hand twitched toward the table by his chair, to the empty vial laying on its side.

Pansy wanted to weep. She wanted to scream. She wanted to crawl into Draco's arms and kiss him, wanted to grab his hand and steal him from the room. Instead she straightened up, slowly, and turned to face the men, her stained knickers falling to her ankles. They watched her, hungry and eager, a couple fisting their cocks as they stared at her. The clock in the corner of the room struck ten and Pansy shivered. Astoria, Peony, Tracey – they still needed time. They still needed to stay away.

She still needed to stay there.

"Gentlemen," she said, her voice as wavering as their robes in her vision. "Is that the best you've got?"


End file.
